


Happy

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Cancer, Future, Heartfelt, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Sad, Terminal Illnesses, gut wrenching and heartfelt at the same time, sad af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Malcolm gets devastating news, and Gil and Malcolm work through it together as partners. A story of beauty in end of life moments.For PST Pride Bingo Growing Old Together.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19
Collections: Prodigal Son Pride Bingo





	Happy

Malcolm’s legs lay in Gil’s lap, Gil running his hand over them and brushing Malcolm’s feet, moving only to repeat the motion again. They were leaner than normal, the muscle tone gone, his hairs tinged with grey.

“I didn’t think it would happen this way,” Malcolm said, his head slightly elevated with a pillow at the opposite end of the couch. “I always thought it would be something else.”

“Like getting overtaken at a scene?” Gil’s recurring nightmare even though Malcolm hadn’t been to the precinct in a few months. Not working in over half a decade himself, he leaned on JT for his updates, but even that was no longer necessary.

“Or my family. Or myself.” Malcolm gestured the alternative options with his hand, the skin there shriveled too.

“Kinda dark.” Gil held his hands over a spot on Malcolm’s foot that felt particularly cold. The kid’s circulation wasn’t the best anymore. Middle aged, he wasn’t a kid anymore, but the moniker had stuck.

“Death’s kinda dark,” Malcolm said, closing his eyes, seemingly always tired. “Doesn’t mean we can’t laugh about it.”

Gil stilled a moment, yet resumed just as readily, not wanting to show Malcolm he was feeling off. “It’s not funny.”

“I don’t want to spend my last days moping,” Malcolm said, his fingers reaching out for Gil’s. Gil stretched one hand up his leg to take them, all skin and bones with the same chill that hid in his feet.

“I’ve heard that before.” Gil gave a small smile even though Malcolm’s eyes weren’t open to see it. Though years distanced the loss of his wife and impending loss of his partner, the heartbreak sat in his chest like it had been only days. He rubbed his thumb over Malcolm’s fingers one by one, trying to ease some warmth back into them, trying to make him feel more like the living.

“She was right,” Malcolm said, and Gil quietly agreed, more concerned with his partner in front of him at the moment than the past.

“Are you in any pain?” Gil squeezed Malcolm’s hand, trying to gauge how he was feeling.

“Not right now.” With Malcolm’s eyes closed, Gil couldn’t tell for sure. He looked comfortable enough, but every day had been a significant struggle for the past month.

“Remember, we’ve got your whole pharmacy in the kitchen.” A congregation of pills that could ameliorate, yet not heal.

“Like I can forget, Gil.” Malcolm’s eyes peeked open, and Gil’s eyes smiled back.

“Do you need another blanket?”

“I’m fine.” Malcolm let a deep breath out as Gil looked on, questioning whether that was the true answer. “In that I might die in a few weeks sort of way.”

“So your typical fine,” Gil attempted to joke back, but the words felt so unnatural in his mouth they left an aftertaste of shame the best whiskey wouldn’t hide.

Malcolm let out a small laugh, his hands recoiling to clench his side at the jerky movement. Face pinching into a grimace, he folded in on himself, locked up like a turtle attempting to evade a predator. Yet the threat was already inside him.

“I’m sorry,” Gil said, sliding up to hold him closer, but Malcolm thrust one of his arms out to stop his advance higher than his thighs. Apparently the additional movement was jostling him and making things worse. Gil stilled, thinking if he didn’t move at all, he wouldn’t cause any further harm.

Malcolm’s eyes closed again, his hands pressed into his side as if it would stem the pain, as if there was anything that could fully shut it off and keep him alive. His beard, a few days into scraggly, twisted into his mouth under his top teeth’s vice to bring pain to offset the other spike.

“I can get one of your pills,” Gil offered again, eyes flitting over his frame trying to find something he could do.

“It’s okay, really,” Malcolm got out between gritted teeth.

Nothing was okay, but the same had been true in the minutes before, and it wasn’t worth the two of them getting upset about when they could spend the time more thoughtfully doing other things. Gil sat holding Malcolm’s knees, his head leaning against them, his fingers soothing back and forth, waiting for the spell to pass.

“I want to keep laughing. Please don’t let this stop you,” Malcolm said quietly, and Gil met his eyes.

“I know,” Gil said, kissing Malcolm’s knee. “I want that for you too.”

“I might take the heat pack, if you could get it?” Malcom requested, now able to open his mouth more freely again.

Gil was already off the couch before Malcolm finished the question. He put the heat pack into the microwave and called back to the living room, “Anything else I can get you while I’m up?”

“You should eat something. Eat something for me?” Malcolm said. Gil couldn’t see any of Malcolm over the couch, yet he could see his pleading eyes just the same.

Staring at the refrigerator, his bright white hair looked back, reminding him that at his age, he should be the one who was sick, he should be the one laid up on the couch, he —

The train of thought wasn’t useful, and it wouldn’t do anything to help his partner in the other room. He’d end up going back with more worry etched into his face that he couldn’t hide amongst his wrinkles. “You alright for a minute if I make some broth?” he asked, pulling down bouillon from the cabinet. Perhaps if he made the clear liquid, he could get Malcolm to take a sip.

“Yeah — not going anywhere,” Malcolm joked, but it sat in Gil’s stomach like lead, taking up all the room.

Gil put on the kettle and grabbed a mug, dropping half a bouillon cube inside. He wrapped the heat pack in a towel, making sure it was cool enough to the touch so it wouldn’t burn his partner’s paper-thin skin. When the water boiled, he added it to the mug and carried both things back to the living room. “For you m’dear,” Gil teased, handing over the heat pack.

Malcolm took it and wrapped it into his side, a small sigh of pleasure escaping at the warmth. Gil set his mug on the coffee table and lay another blanket over Malcolm before rejoining him.

“Any better?” Gil asked, resuming his post at Malcolm’s legs.

“It’s perfect,” Malcolm said.

“Let me know if you want some.” Gil pointed at his steaming mug.

Malcolm nodded, both of them knowing eating anything was difficult, and it was an issue neither of them would press anymore. It left Malcolm gaunt, and in the nighttime moments Gil let himself think about it, he supposed it would only get worse, dwindling to a frail ghost one day.

“Your mom wants to come by,” Gil said.

“Maybe tomorrow? I’d really like today to be just us,” Malcolm said. Gil could understand that after the devastating, yet expected news they had received at the doctor’s the previous day. “I’d take the week if I could, but… that’s selfish.”

“We’re all gonna do whatever you want,” Gil said. Malcolm had gotten to choose how he lived — he’d sure as hell get to choose how he died, even if Gil had to fight someone in the process. “You’re in charge.”

“That’s dangerous.” Malcolm smirked, which brought Gil a little joy through the darkness. “Might get you an army of kittens in here.”

“Kid — “

“You’re gonna need someone,” Malcolm pointed out with a smile. “Maybe soft and fuzzy is the answer.”

Of all things… “Not right now.” Gil couldn’t believe what the kid came up with sometimes.

“They can’t be any worse than looking after me all these years.” All Gil could see were little furballs scratching the leather couch while he fought to hold himself together, which made him want to claw his own eyes out.

“I can’t replace you. I _can’t_ ,” Gil said, his voice breaking on the last word, unable to hide the pain of losing another partner too soon.

Malcolm reached for him. “I’m not asking you to.” Seemingly frustrated with Gil not being close enough, he added, “Come here.”

“Hmm?” Gil looked at him in confusion, his head tilting.

“Around behind me — I’ll move,” Malcolm clarified and gingerly slid down the couch.

Gil carefully nestled in behind him and rested Malcolm’s back against his chest. It was one of his favorite spots, holding his partner, yet it was harder to do now with Malcolm’s pain, and the last thing he wanted to do was make anything worse. “You good?” Gil asked into the top of Malcolm’s head, nuzzling his hair.

“Best spot.” Malcolm sighed in contentment.

“Seriously — “

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Gil relaxed against the arm of the couch and folded his hands around Malcolm’s. His broth sat forgotten, Malcolm taking all his concentration.

“Promise me you’ll get the cat you want,” Malcolm said, keeping a grasp on the conversation as if he wouldn’t let it go until he got the response he was looking for.

“Eventually. Yes. I wasn’t ready after Backup. And now…” he trailed off — they’d already spent too much time talking about the end.

“Remember when Backup got up on the roof, and you thought he was loose in the street?” Malcolm asked, his smile making it to Gil’s ears.

“I seem to remember finding him with a certain partner of mine laying in the sun. Who conveniently left his cellphone inside.” Gil tickled his whiskers behind Malcolm’s ear.

Malcolm shrugged against him. “He was happy.”

“I’m not sure which one of you was more pleased with yourself.” Gil reminisced finding Malcolm sleeping peacefully and picking up Backup to bring him inside so he didn’t get any ideas about jumping to the next building. Malcolm might have enjoyed an afternoon of parkour, but Gil hadn’t wanted to encourage it. Gil had ended up sitting outside with him, watching over him until he woke with a dopey smile that remained in his memory a few years later.

“‘Cause you weren’t tickled that you got me to call for Backup all the time,” Malcolm teased.

“There might have been some method to my madness.” Gil kissed Malcolm’s shoulder. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“Got me to this point.”

“What would you name a new cat?” Gil asked.

“You’re better at that.”

“C’mon, tell me.” Gil squeezed Malcolm’s hands lightly to try to get an answer out of him.

“Happy.”

“You always liked to name your pets after daily affirmation cards.” Smile the snake remained a particularly sore spot with Jessica, after she had told Malcolm to smile for years and he gave her an about face and used it as a name for a pet she despised.

“Works. Say their name, brings joy,” Malcolm said plainly. Gil had the proof, too — whenever Malcom had said Sunshine, his smile had lit up the room. Even Backup had garnered a regular chuckle over the inside joke.

“Okay. Happy, they will be,” Gil agreed.

“I need you to try at it too,” Malcolm reinforced his point with fingers digging into Gil’s forearms. “For real.”

“I will.” Whatever Gil had to promise him to make these last weeks more manageable, he’d do it.

“Was Jackie scared?” Malcolm’s voice carried questioning, yet no pain.

“Sometimes.” On evenings in bed when a few tears snuck loose and she worried about the kid, or when she had told him she was concerned for him. Never about her own predicament. “She just didn’t usually show it.”

“I’m scared for you sometimes.” Shit, the two of them had that in common.

“You don’t need to be.” Gil lowered his head fully into Malcolm’s shoulder, trying to hold him closer without hurting him.

“I know you got through it before — it’s just not fair that you have to do it again.” Malcolm’s voice remained level, almost detached from what he was saying as his head leaned against Gil’s.

“Nothing’s fair, kid. It just is. We find our way through it.” They’d already made it through a litany of tests over months before a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, only to learn it was too late to attempt to treat further. Something they were one day into coming to terms with, burrowing into each other in their own way of preparing before facing anyone else.

“You’ll reach out to the team if you need?” Malcolm asked.

“Of course.” Gil rubbed the back of Malcolm’s neck. “Is there something bothering you?”

“I want to make sure you’re you’re going to be okay. T-that I don’t drag you down too.” Malcolm’s voice finally wavered, revealing the depth of thoughts bouncing unvoiced in his brain.

Gil bit his lip, fighting back the emotion that threatened to bleed into his voice. “Yeah, kid.”

Pulling back to bury his face in the top of Malcolm’s hair, he took a few deep breaths, re-memorizing the smell of his shampoo mixed with the light trace of his own scent. He gave himself a moment to imagine they had just gotten out of the shower and curled into bed to settle in, hiding out until some responsibility called. Malcolm’s heartbeat was strong under his fingertips, his skin warm from the heat pack.

“It’s okay if you’re sad,” Malcolm said, giving him an out. “We found out yesterday. We’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know. And I am. But I agree with you these moments can still be filled with joy — just gotta look for it.” It might put Gil in the bottom of Crater Lake with all the water pouring in, but he would still look for the shiny penny if it meant so much to his partner.

“I’m gonna find Happy for you,” Malcolm said, turning his head and forcing Gil to move his own.

“Kid — “

“You can tell me no after I do, but I wanna do this.” Malcolm’s tired, puppy dog eyes looked back at him, and Gil stole a kiss, keeping his lips an extra moment to re-memorize their taste.

“Okay.”

Gil sat in the rooftop garden, Happy curled up on his lap sunning her grey coat, her bright blue eyes looking up at him sleepily. The loft was devastatingly quiet without Malcolm, yet every time he looked at the poofy ball of fur, he saw pieces of Malcolm that reminded he could continue to be.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
